Legacy of Anduri: Winters Queen
by Lokki
Summary: A story of love, war, betrayal and revenge. READ IT AND REVIEW IT YOU CRAZY PEOPLE! ALL YOUR FEEDBACK ARE BELONG TO ME!
1. Prologue

The west moon had risen over the cliffs of highmoore, the east was setting; slowly dipping its silvery crescent body below the pine boughs of the skyclaw forest. The night was calm to the casual listener, yet, if one listened closely, they would hear faintly the deep voices of wood drums, reverberating through the forest, the beating heart of the land.  
Around blazing fires, deep within the forest, was the drum songs source; and with that song, voices rose, and feet licked the forest floor, like fire to the sky. Dancers clad in tones of the earth, with beads of white and black tied in their hair, their bodies tatooed with sigla colored chestnut and red, whipped round the fires, their laughter and the music of their voices flew from their lips to join the drums and complete the song.  
Similare scenes were taking place all throughout the forest; for this night was the night before the first of summer.  
  
Apart from the festivities taking place in other parts of the woods, a lone figure danced under the two moons, west rising, and east setting. The muted sound of the drums drifted among the soft, fragrant pine needles that carpeted the forest floor. The dancers feet flickered across the ground. carrying her body, like water, through the woods. Her hair whipped around her face and shoulders, covering them in thick auburn. The scent of pine was thick in her every breath. Eyes, clear and green like a leaf, glinted in the moonlight, as she whirled around.  
Hours passed, and still she danced, a shadowed whisper passed between the trees. Soon the west moon began to set, the east already long gone down; and morning began to open its eyes to gaze upon the world. As sunbeams slowly crept between the trees, the dancer became like a flickering candle flame, crossing between darkness, in the shadows of the trees, and light, brought by the slowly rising sun. Her hair was matted down and sweat trickled down her lithe body in little rivers, scented by pine. The drums had long ago ceased and now she danced to the quick beating of her heart. She danced until the sun came near its highest, at which time she came into a glade, where jutted a stone, covered in grass, and rising near fifteen feet at its point, which if followed would guide the passer by south. It rose slowly out of the earth, leaning its craggy body upon the soft ground. This was southstone, in the common tongue; a great ruin left from an age long past and forgotten. To the girl who danced, the rock was known as Romarch, the glade in which it rested its weary body, Omaruar. Stone of Thunder, glade of Winters Peace.  
The girl whirled up the soft slope of the rock, called Romarch, drawing from the earth, two blades, which she had planted there when she had begun her dance. Reaching the top of that ruined stone, she stopped her dance by falling to her knees, thrusting her blades down deep into the ground; pushing her body forward, and lifting her face to the sun, now at its peak. She let out a brief yell, which carried on it a tired but joyous note. She fell back, letting go of her blades to sprawl upon the grassy top of Romarch, the Southstone.  
Out of the woods surrounding Omaruar, and Romarch, a bent old woman came forth, slowly making her way towards the stone. The girl did not move, but lay upon the grass... waiting. The woman came upon the girl, old eyes looking into young, and said.  
  
"At the top before life, and bottom before death, when thy time hath come be remembered by who's left."  
  
After those words were spoken, the old woman drew from a pouch at her hip, a dagger of bone carved so thin it became translucent, in the sun. A thin black line ran along one edge of the blade. The woman drew closer, and reaching, pulled open the deer hide vest the girl wore, exposing her breasts to the sun. Closer still the old woman leaned, her gnarled hands, tracing, with a bit of charcoal from her pouch, a sigla, between breast and collar bone. The girl still did not move, and the woman leaning above her began to chant strange words, in a tongue the girl did not know, yet recognized as familiar. The chanting stopped, and the blade came down, piercing the sigla newly traced upon the girls flesh, through the center. A cry came ringing from the girls lips. The ink that ran along one edge of the blade, for that was what the black line was, raced down the dagger, to its point and into the wound. Soon the sigla covering the girls body began to glow and ripple, flashing fire reflected in ice. The girls scream grew quiet, and became a soft moan, as the woman began chanting anew.  
After a few moments the fiery glow faded from all the sigla but one. The old woman, withdrew her blade, placed it and her charcoal, back into her pouch, stood, and slowly made her way back into the woods. The girl, lay still upon the rock, beads of sweat sliding down her face, stinging her eyes. The last of the fires, lighting only the new rune, died and went out, leaving it tatooed upon the girls chest, connecting all other markings on her body, into one unified design.  
The girl stood after a while, slowly growing accustomed to her own two legs.   
A voice, drifted to her from the edge of the woods.  
  
"The name you had you leave behind, your past has gone, has burned and died. You are now woman in your own right, and are to choose new a name, this coming night."  
  
The young woman, smiled, knowing already, the name she would take. 


	2. Chapter One

Chapter One

On the ramparts, of the city of Highmoore, given that name for the city stood on the cliffs of Highmoore, just above the brief expanse of plains that also shared that name, which bordered the Skyclaw, a forest of sweet pine, and deep shadow; two guards leaned on their spears, listening to the faint bust distinct music of wood drums calling out from the depths of the forest. The forest was called home, by a savage race, known as Elves among men and Furiin by the dwarves, of the far off Northlands. Much of Highmoore's economics rested upon these Elves. The men of Highmoore sought dominion over the forest of Skyclaw, but the Elves would not have it, and fought mercilessly to keep their homelands from being overrun by men, raiding caravans and outposts, with recless abandon. The men of Highmoore in their part had made a profitable business out of capturing entire villages and selling those they captured into slavery. The struggles had been going on for near ten years.

"Hard to believe that a bunch of savages could actually be able to produce music like that!" one guard muttered.

"Aye." His companion, the taller of the two replied "I've heard talk that many O' Th' lords keep em savage folks women, to play for em... among other things." He snickered at his own joke for a while, until they were again both lost within the beating of the drums. Hours passed, and the drums continued until night turned into a dawn that promised to become an even more beautiful, although crisp, winter day. The next watch soon came round the corner, their breath steaming in the chilly morning air, ready to relieve the two listeners.

As the morning watch got settled in, a small commotion erupted by the front gates. The guards peered over the edge of the wall, trying to catch a glimpse of who or what, caused the disturbance. Below them other guards were rushing about, shouting orders, and getting people destined for the market places out of the way.

"Huh" one of the watchmen sighed "I wonder what's got them all in such a uproar this early..."

"Yeah..." the other wondered "Hey! Jonar, c'mere 'n get a look at this, yer eyes be better 'n ours." He called to a patrolman, who began walking over.

"C'mon, urry up, almost over I think!"

The guard, Jonar, quickened his pace to a jog, and arrived at the walls edge, just in time to look down and see, what appeared to be a young girl, only her hair was white, being dragged off by a pair of guards through the city gates and out of sight. A new slave destined for the markets perhaps. Before she disappeared completely, still struggling against her captors, Jonar felt the young woman's gaze fall upon the three watchers. Jonars to companions fell silent instantly, abandoning the cruel jokes they had been trading moments before, as an icy chill, deeper than any natural cold could penetrate descended upon them.

They stood in stunned silence a moment.

"Creepy little witch" came the words that broke the silence, though much of its force was lost in the unnatural chill.

"Aye, they're good fer nuthin if yer askin me... should just send the whole blooming Highmoore army in after em and wipe em off the earth, eh Jonar?"

The chill was by now almost gone from them, and much of their former bravado had returned.

"What's that? Oh yes... I suppose..." he trailed off.

"Whots a'matter? Not afraid of a little savage girl are yeh?" The first watchmen, asked.

"Me? Never... its just..."

"Just what?" The first interjected "... I think yeh are afraid!"

"C'mon now Theram, he's just a lad" the second watchmen stated "There'll be a time when 'e gets teh, go, and knock some of em savages senseless... 'e's just a little wet behind 'is ears 'e is."

Jonar mumbled his thanks as he walked by the second watchman. Continuing his patrol route, he crossed into a stairwell, and began his decent down towards the market level, of Highmoore. Jonar hoped desperately, he would not be assigned to guard duty at the slave markets today. How he loathed that placement.

As luck would have it however, the slave markets were exactly where he ended up spending his day, uneventful as it was. Near closing however, things did pick up... at least in his mind. A cloaked figure stepped past him, and headed for the slave master, who was just starting to tie his charges up for the night.

"Rest well me pretties, we have another bust day tomorrah, and I don't want yeh being all over tired... must put on a good show eh!" The slave master said. As he turned around, he near well died of fright, not expecting someone to be behind him.

"Can I help ye, uh.... my lord er lady?" He asked, unsure if the figure within the cloak was a man or woman.

"Its Miss... I come from the house of Lord D'valsaren" The cloaked woman stated matter of factly "I'm here to purchase a new chamber maid.... my lord's former, having met with... an accident."

The slave master grinned at this, and Janor scowled at what he overheard. The slave masters face then grew serious.

"Alright, but hurry it up, damn savage..." He said, as he wandered off to the other side of the slave compound, making sure all in place, and muttering something about being cold. Nodding once at the retreating slave driver, the cloaked woman, withdrew her hood, and looked once over her shoulder at Janor, who looked away as casually as he could, trying to appear uninterested in the woman's affairs. This of course was not easy for him, for when she removed her hood, his eyes had opened considerably, and were presumably still just as large. White hair. She had white hair... and her eyes, they were akin to ice in color. He could just make out the dark lines of her tattoos that reached up her neck contrasting starkly with her pale skin. He turned slightly and whistled a tune.

The woman wandered the lines of slaves, stopping every now and then, never looking into their faces directly. After a few moments of this, she went back to one particular, and called the slave master over.

"How much for this one?" she asked, the man in front of her, who was considerably taken aback, by the woman's appearance.

"Uh... twenty-three" He came to his senses quickly, and laid down the price for the slave in question.

"Eighteen" The woman returned

"Twenty-one"

"Nineteen and two"

"Nineteen and eight" The slave master said "and that's lowest!"

"Done" The woman sighed, opened her pouch and handed over the amount.

The slave driver grabbed it greedily from her.

"Right, now away with yah, I'll do no more business this day!"

The woman nodded again, narrowing her eyes slightly, and replaced her hood. As she walked by Janor, on the way back to her lord's manor, he heard her mumble under her breath.

"Greedy fat old bastard... I best not lose my life because of him and his damn prices."

She sighed again as she stopped and looked inside her purse.

"Fifteen and three" she muttered, "four and one short of what I should have..."

She started walking again, but stopped when Janor called out to her.

"Miss?"

"Yes?" She turned and replied

"I overheard what you said and I..." He couldn't finish as she cut him off

"Look, I don't want any trouble, especially from a city guard, I'll pay you whatever it is you want, for you to forget my remark, and let me go home."

"Uh... no, no." he stammered as she began digging, in her purse again "That's not it."

She looked at him from the depth of her hood.

"What then? You seek to bed me? She asked, "You men are all the same..."

"Uh... no, no that's not it either... I just, well here..." he fumbled with his purse, and drew out five golden coins "this should be what you need to keep your life."

Slowly she removed her hood, and looked at him, obviously skeptical.

"What do you want in return?"

"N-nothing" he stammered, as began to feel the same cold chill he had felt that morning stirring within him.

"You're trying to tell me, that in exchange for these coins, you do not expect, nor want anything?" She laughed then, her voice soft and musical.

"That's right" Janor said, all to quickly "... I mean... yes, that's correct." He straightened, trying to look as authoritative as he could.

The woman smiled at him, genuinely, and he felt the chill that had begun to creep up his spine, fade and die all together. She took the money his hand offered, and bowed low saying.

"Many thanks good sir, what is your name, I shall speak with my lord about you tonight."

"Uh... Janor... but no need to speak to any lords about me thanks..."

"Have it your own way then Sir Janor, I shall not press the matter." she turned to leave.

"W-wait!" Janor called again "What is your name... and were the one the guards were after at the gates?"

Slowly the woman turned, eyeing Janor critically with her ice colored eyes, a few strands of hair, blowing across her face, in the breeze that had sprung up.

"Anduri... my name is Anduri... and yes..."

"Why?"

The woman, Anduri, replaced her hood upon her head, turned, and walked into the night, leaving Janor with many other questions in his mind and on his lips.

*****

The days following his encounter, passed uneventfully for Janor, and he occupied much of his time with thoughts about Anduri, the mysterious white haired young woman, he had met. She was, to him, the most beautiful woman he had seen, a bit different, yes, but beautiful nonetheless. Her long white hair, slender neck, and milky skin tattooed with runes of red and chestnut brown were on his mind all the time. He pictured in his mind what her body, had it not been covered by the thick cloak that night, might have looked like, slender, with graceful curves. All through the days, he would puzzle over what had happened at the gates... had she been trying to escape? Or perhaps she had had a bad run in with one of the gatekeepers. A few times he had thought he'd seen her in the market place in his round, but whenever he looked again, what he thought was Anduri was only a grumpy shop woman, or bakers wife. One day he had been so distracted by his thoughts, he nearly walked into and overturned, a cart, laden with all kinds of produce, from various lands. The vendor had given him a stern lecture on that incident.

Soon he began to doubt he would ever see, the woman again. The woman that now so readily entered his dreams.

It was just such and dream he was having, when he awoke, with the name upon his lips, ready to shout out to the night "Anduri!". He stopped before the word left his mouth, and looked around, his breathing rapid. What noise had awoken him, and a better question still...  what had his dream been about? He lay back down, then shot upright again in his cot. There had defiantly been a noise. Janor looked across the room, and out the window; a night watchman stood slumped against the wall, no doubt listening as Janor himself often did, to the drum song, faintly carried upon the winds. He lay back down again, and the noise came, a quick shuffle of footsteps, to light to be a patrol, even with the walls muffling much of the sounds of the night. Janor slowly, and quietly slipped his dagger from his belt, and rolled over, pretending to sleep. Soon Janor heard the door slide open, slowly. The guard must have fallen asleep. Wider still, did the door open, and a shadow crept into the room. Barely making a noise, it moved to where Janor lay pretending to sleep. As it leaned over Janor as is preparing to strike, he made his move, flying from the sheets, and grabbing hold of his would be assailant. A muffled cry escaped the shadows lips, and by the light of the moon, Janor, saw the shadow to be... a guardsman. Janor looked confused, as did the guardsman.

"What in the name of a savages drums, are you trying to do?!"

"I'm sorry... I, I thought you were... someone else..." Janor replied, the confused look still on his face.

"Right... In any case, your turns come up for patrol, of the north walls, I came to wake you..." The guardsman stood, and backed up a little, allowing Janor to stand "I'll see you there."

"Right." Janor replied 'and again, sorry."

"Aye, s'alright" The guard mumbled as he turned and made his way out of the room, shaking his head.

Janor sighed, trying to calm his heightened nerves. He nearly succeeded in doing so to, until a hand grasped his shoulder. Janor whirled, almost falling over; as his legs got tangled in the armor he was attempting to fasten to his legs. A look of joy spread over his features a few seconds later, as he recognized, the cloak the figure wore.

"Anduri" he said.

"Hah, I'm surprised you remember me at all..." She laughed, her voice just as sweet as when he had last heard it those many weeks ago.

"Of, of course I do..." he told her "What.... why, why are you hear?"

"I am returning the money I borrowed. My lord saw fit to reinstate my 'allowance' and now that I have enough, I came to repay what I owe." She said simply

"You... but... you didn't have to do that" Janor Replied.

"Perhaps not, but I did."

"Uh.... thank you..."

"Of course... now if you will excuse me, I must return."

"W-wait... I..." He stumbled over the words, as she headed for the door "Will I be able to see you again?"


End file.
